_Neverout._ Ah! dear Madam, let the Matter fall; take Pity on poor Miss; don’t throw Water on a drownded Rat. _Miss._ Indeed, Mr. _Neverout_, you should be cut for the Simples this Morning: Say a Word more, and you had as good eat your Nails. _Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Miss, will you be so good as to favour us with a Song? _Miss._ Indeed, my Lord, I can’t; for I have a great Cold. _Col._ Oh! Miss, they say, all good Singers have Colds. _Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, Madam, does not Miss sing very well? _Lady Answ._ She sings, as one may _say_, my Lord. _Miss._ I hear, Mr. _Neverout_ has a very good Voice. _Col._ Yes; _Tom_ sings well; but his Luck’s naught. _Neverout._ Faith, Colonel, you hit yourself a devilish Box on the Ear. _Col._ Miss, Will you take a Pinch of Snuff? _Miss._ No, Colonel; you must know, I never take Snuff, but when I’m angry. _Lady Answ._ Yes, yes, she can take Snuff; but she has never a Box to put it in. _Miss._ Pray, Colonel, let me see that Box. _Col._ Madam, there’s never a C upon it. _Miss._ May be there is, Colonel. _Col._ Ay; but May-bees don’t fly now, Miss. _Neverout._ Colonel, why so hard upon poor Miss? Don’t set your Wit against a Child: Miss, give me a Blow, and I’ll beat him. _Miss._ So she pray’d me to tell you. _Ld. Sparkish._ Pray, my Lady _Smart_, What Kin are you to Lord _Pozz_? _Lady Smart._ Why, his Grandmother and mine had Four Elbows. _Lady Answ._ Well, methinks here is a silent Meeting. Come, Miss, hold up your Head, Girl; there’s Money bid for you. [—_Miss starts_— _Miss._ Lord, Madam, you frighten me out of my Seven Senses! _Ld. Sparkish._ Well, I must be going. _Lady Answ._ I have seen hastier People than you stay all Night. _Col._ [_to Lady Smart._] _Tom Neverout_ and I are to leap To-morrow for a Guinea. _Miss._ I believe, Colonel, Mr. _Neverout_ can leap at a Crust better than you. _Neverout._ Miss, your Tongue runs before your Wit; nothing can tame you but a Husband. _Miss._ Peace! I think I hear the Church Clock. _Neverout._ Why you know, as the Fool thinks—— _Lady Smart._ Mr. _Neverout_, your Handkerchief’s fallen. _Miss._ Let him set his Foot on it, that it mayn’t fly in his Face. _Neverout._ Well, Miss—— _Miss._ Ay, ay; many a one says well, that thinks ill. _Neverout._ Well, Miss; I’ll think of this. _Miss._ That’s Rhime, if you take it in Time. _Neverout._ What! I see you are a Poet. _Miss._ Yes; if I had but the Wit to show it. _Neverout._ Miss, Will you be so kind as to fill me a Dish of Tea? _Miss._ Pray, let your Betters be serv’d before you; I am just going to fill one for myself; and, you know, the Parson always christens his own Child first. _Neverout._ But I saw you fill one just now for the Colonel: Well, I find kissing goes by Favour. _Miss._ But pray, Mr. _Neverout_, What Lady was that you were talking with in the Side-Box last _Tuesday_? _Neverout._ Miss, can you keep a Secret? _Miss._ Yes, I can. _Neverout._ Well, Miss; and so can I.